


band aids don't fix bullet holes

by nimdlez



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 20:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7655428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimdlez/pseuds/nimdlez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nero really hates Avilio. Like, a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> why am i writing this when the series isn't even over???  
> (told from nero's pov because i love him already)

     Nero is awakened by a rooster’s crow, long and wistful as the rising sun breaks through the horizon. He opens one eye and checks his surroundings. Avilio is lying next to him with his front to Nero, golden eyes unblinking and hand settled on the knife by his waist. The first rays of light cast an eerie shadow against the man’s face and Nero suspects that the other had barely slept, if at all.

     “Stay up all night? Nobody’s chasing after us right now, you can stop being so paranoid about someone stabbing you in the back.” He huffs and sits up in the carriage. It had been a few days since their encounter with “Big Mexico” as Nero so endearingly called him, and since then, he hadn’t received any calls from Valbero about hitmen. That night wasn’t as harrowing as some of his other experiences, but it was still a frightful reminder that Nero was very much human and could die at any second. As he watches Avilio dismount the cart, he grudgingly admits to himself that he was indebted to the other for saving his life, but he wasn’t going to bring that up any time soon. Cocky bastard would probably just smirk and rub it in his face later on.

     Nero’s thoughts are interrupted by the chuff of the cart horse, impatiently scuffing his hooves in search of his morning breakfast. He’s about to call to Avilio to fetch the horse some hay, but the younger guy had disappeared into the edge of the forest, probably out to look for some berries or something for their own breakfast. Two men could only live so long on cans of pineapple.

     “I hope he gets mauled by a bear.” Nero mutters under his breath, throwing a small stack of hay under the horse’s feet. “Maybe bears like the taste of pineapple too.”

     The morning is still humid and Nero decides to refresh their supply of water by heading over to the small lake just adjacent to their current position. He dips the metal bucket into the clear pool, taking a moment to lie down and relax before they would inevitably hit the dusty road again. He misses his younger brother, he misses Vanno, and he misses Valbero. Heck, he even misses the old geezer, but what was he doing instead of drinking back home with his friends and family? Oh, that’s right, he’s stuck on the run from the Galassias with someone he barely knew, and they’re not even a pretty girl. No, he’s stuck with a sullen man who had probably never enjoyed a moment of fun in his life.

     As Nero makes his way back to the cart, Avilio appears from the line of bushes, hands full of colorful berries and what appears to be tree roots.

     "How do I know that you’re not trying to poison me?” Nero can see Avilio's eye twitch in irritation from a mile away.

     “You don’t.” His companion says dryly, climbing up the cart to sit cross-legged and setting the food onto the wooden floor. Nero reaches out for a berry, but is smacked away by Avilio, who almost looks offended that Nero had tried to reach for his food. “They’re not for you. Go find some yourself.”

     “I can’t tell the difference between a blackberry and a blueberry, how am I supposed to tell what’s edible or not.” He whines, reaching in the satchel for a can of pineapple but finding the bag to be regretfully empty. Turning to Avilio, he shows him the empty bag, but Avilio simply shrugs and points to the forest. Nero scowls.

     “Blueberries are blue. Blackberries are black. Figure out the rest for yourself.”

     In all honesty, if Avilio wasn’t so useful as a driver, Nero would have punched him right then and there.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lied, i'll update whenever i feel like it

     They arrive in a small town as the sun rises to its peak in the summer sky, heat beating on their backs and sweat forming on their brows. Nero had long ditched his suit jacket to the back of the cart, but Avilio had insistently kept wearing his long coat, leading Nero to believe that the man wanted a place to hide his weapons. Of all the people Nero has known in his life, Avilio was definitely one of the more cautionary men he had become acquainted with.

     “I’m going to go buy food. Don’t get drunk.” Avilio’s voice is low and soft, barely audible over the strutting of the cart horse and Nero has to lean back to catch the words. He watches the other dismount the horse with an easy grace, being suddenly reminded of his younger brother. Growing up in the lap of luxury, Nero had never found time to do things like driving or horseback riding and had instead drowned himself in things like women and liquor. His brother, on the other hand, had taken an early liking to horses and he would often see Frate riding a steed in the early morning when there were no jobs to be done. Nero watches Avilio disappear into the corner store before climbing off the cart, hands in pockets as he takes off in search of the nearest bar. There’s a feeling in the back of his head that he can’t dismiss, and he feels like it’s something important. Maybe a drink will take it off his mind.

     A few aggressive interrogations later, Nero finds himself in the back of a seedy alley in front of an even seedier looking building. Despite it being Prohibition, alcohol was relatively easy to find if you spoke the right names and provided some easy pocket money, and fortunately, Nero had both. He pushes through the heavy wooden door and is greeted by a dimly lit room filled with cigar smoke and tobacco. Ignoring the stares of the locals, Nero makes his way over to the bar and slaps down a handful of cash.

     “Give me your strongest. And keep them coming.”

     The bartender slides down a small shot glass of amber liquid, which Nero finishes in an instant. It goes down like water.

     “Hey bartender, didn’t I say your strongest? I’m paying good money here and you’re serving me some colored mess?” The bartender rolls his eyes, but ignores him and sends another drink his way. Nero is disgruntled, but downs the next drink like the first, a pleasuring warmth soon beginning to flood his body. The third drink hits his hand and sloshes a bit onto his knuckles, but he grabs the glass firmly and tips it back in one go. On the fourth, Nero takes his time to observe his surroundings in his tipsy state. The bar is filled with both middle and older aged men, backs hunched and hats low on their face as if they were shadows trying to blend in with the dreary wallpaper. Amongst the low talking, there is a group of young men sitting at a table, drinks in hand with women in their laps, loud voices breaking through the amiable din. Nero sees himself in many of the men and downs another glass.

     At this point in time, a man comes into the bar and joins the group of young patrons at the table. They begin to engage in raucous conversation and Nero can’t help but listen in.

     “Saw someone that’s your type at the store Matteo, lot’s better than the whore on your lap.” The newcomer lights a cigarette and kicks his feet onto the table, shaking a bottle of wine.

     “That so Niccolo? You describe em’ to me and I’ll head over there right now, I’ve been fixing for a fuck all day.” The man named Matteo makes a few thrusting motions with his hips which makes all the girls giggle and Nero grimace.

     “Tall, long coat with a hat and short black hair. It’s a he but he’s got an ass to him with a hard look and these nice yellow eyes. Saw him lookin’ over the canned goods at the corner store and figure he’d look real good tied up before we kill him.”

     Nero’s grip tightens on the glass in his hand. They were undoubtedly talking about Avilio.

     "He gotta pretty face?"

     "Damn pretty if I do say so myself, if you don't take him, I might take him for my own."

     “That so? Well, excuse me ladies, I’ve got someone waiting for me.” Matteo rises from his seat and makes his way towards the door but is stopped when Nero grabs his arm.

     “Get your hands off-“ The man named Matteo doesn’t finish his sentence before Nero drives a fist into his chin with so much force that the man staggers back in shock, hand clutching his jaw. His fist is throbbing, but Nero tips back his glass and sets it on the counter. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but all of a sudden, there are fists flying towards him and he’s throwing punches back in order to defend himself. He feels a hand connect to his side and he coughs, sinking down to his knees as the blows continue to rain down on his body.

     A gunshot breaks the fighting and all the men look to the bartender holding a shotgun under his arm.

     “You folks. Sit down. Blondie get outta my bar.” The men that were beating him recede with nasty glares and Nero gets up from the floor, spitting out blood and giving the group the finger. He’s promptly kicked from the bar and his injuries have sobered him up enough to find his way back to the horse cart where Avilio is sitting with a disappointed look.

     “I told you not to get drunk.”

     “We both know I don’t take directions very well.” Avilio looks at him, unamused, but helps him onto the cart.

     “We can’t stay in town. All the inns are full and too expensive for our budget. Which would be a lot bigger if someone didn’t spend all of our money on liquor.”

     “What can I say, I’m a man with needs.”

     Avilio looks like he’s about to retort with another scathing remark, but he bites his tongue and gets back on the horse, prodding it to start moving with a nudge of his foot. Nero is sure that when this whole mess is resolved, Frate and Avilio would be good friends.

     “Aren’t you gonna help me with my wounds?”

     Avilio glances back at him. “Any broken bones or internal bleeding?”

     “Probably not.”

     “Then no.”

     Nero groans and rolls onto his side, feeling the pain throb from the places he was hit. Something hits his leg and he looks down. A roll of bandages.

     “In exchange, you can tell me why you got in a fight.” Avilio says without looking back, and Nero sits up to begin wrapping up his swollen hand.

     “Made a move on another man’s girl while I was drinking. He got mad.”

     Avilio scoffs and mutters something under his breath that Nero doesn’t catch, but he guesses it wasn’t anything nice. Just as they hit the outskirts of town, Nero suddenly remembers what was on his mind earlier.

     “You didn’t buy any pineapple did you?” He says, eyeing the paper bag in the corner that looked suspiciously full of cans.

     Avilio, with his back to Nero, cracks the smallest grin.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: nero and avilio finally find an inn they can afford


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was as long as the last two chapters combined why am i so erratic

     Avilio, being the serial pick pocket he is, manages to get the pair enough money to stay in a dinky inn on their way to the next town. The building is a sad sight, being nothing more than shabby wooden planks being held together by faith and strong glue. Nero is thoroughly convinced that if he sneezes hard enough, the building would collapse on its own.

     “We’d like to stay for a night. Two if possible.” An old lady with no teeth stands at the counter with a black cat on her shoulder. The cat hisses at them and Nero’s stomach flips a little. He’s always hated cats ever since he was bit by one when he was younger.

     “Would you two like different rooms or-“

     "We’ll take one room.” Nero chokes and grabs Avilio in a headlock, giving the old lady an apologetic look before dragging his traveling companion off into the corner.

     “There’s no way I’m sharing a room with you.”

     “It’s cheaper. Besides, whose money is it, mine or yours?” Unfortunately, Nero had no good argument to counter with. While he was out drinking their money away, Avilio had gone from person to person in search of information and money. The information was taken in a completely legal way. The money, not so much.

     He takes a seat in a small wooden chair too frail for his large frame and crosses his arms. At the counter, Avilio is clearly trying to work out some negotiations with the elderly woman in order for them to get more than one night at the inn. Having the lobby being so small, Avilio’s clear voice resonates around the room and gives Nero the chills. To Nero, the other came off as snappy and standoffish, but in front of the woman, Avilio is all charisma and suave words.

     “…robbed by some street thugs…it was horrible…his mother has a terrible sickness…yes ma’am we are cousins…” Nero has to turn around to hide his laughter. He had never pegged Avilio to be such an imaginative storyteller.

     It’s not long before Avilio walks back to him, key jingling in hand with the “I told you so” smirk on his face. It’s the same expression that always appears when Nero comes back shit-faced drunk, but this time, he’s sober enough to recognize it. Before he can speak, Avilio cuts him off by shoving a hand into his chest.

     “Lady said we could leave our horse in the stable nearby, so you go do that. I’ll be in the room and if you come back too late, I won’t unlock the door for you. Also, if you hit me, it won’t make our “good cousins” story any more believable.” Nero growls and watches Avilio smugly walk away, room keys, pineapple, and all. Not being left with many choices, Nero walks over to the old lady who looks strangely way too happy having watched their interactions.

     “Stables?” The woman is giving him a gummy smile. Haunting, really.

     “Half a mile away behind the building, can’t miss it. Right across the lake.” Nero tips his head in response and walks out the door. The cart and horse were right where they had left it on the road and Nero takes the horse’s lead to guide it through the sparsely grown trees. The path that supposedly led to the stables is rocky and Nero has trouble leading the horse without stumbling around in the dark, praying to heaven the whole entire time that the horse didn't get spooked and bolt off.

     It takes Nero some time, but him and the horse finally reach a small, dilapidated building that strongly resembles the inn from earlier, shabby roofing and weak skeleton with a moonlit lake sitting directly behind it. He unties the animal and checks to make sure that he hadn’t fucked up the cart too badly for it to still be in working condition for when they would inevitably hit the road again. At this point, Nero is exhausted. For the past few days, they had been evading major cities in order not to be caught by the Galassias, and it was taxing enough to not sleep on a bed or without a roof to offer him shelter. From crappy meals to evading gunfire, Nero was tired.

     “Maybe I should just give up and go back home.” He mumbles, sitting down on the edge of the lake and suddenly growing wistful. He missed the comfort of his home and he missed the familiarity of having friends around him. Sure, they were all notoriously conniving mobsters, but he had grown up with most of the guys that worked for his family, especially Vanno. Vanno, while not always being a perfect guy, was someone who he treasured dearly as a trusted friend. When he had found out that the other had died it was like someone had ripped him apart, as if his own family member had passed. It was even worse when he found out that the man who had killed Vanno had also died. If Nero could have it his way, he wouldn’t have let Serpente die a painless death from a bullet. If Nero could have it his way, he would have had Serpente suffer from his hands before dying a much more painful death since both he, and Vanno deserved at least that much.

     Lost in his thoughts, Nero doesn’t even realize that the water had pushed onto his legs until he’s snapped out of his reverie by a cricket landing on his hand. He shakes the insect off and gets up, pants drenched and feeling a little bit better than he had before. Since the beginning of the journey, Nero had been burdened by so many things that he had never stopped to consider how emotionally hampered he was by everything that had happened to him recently. He stretches his arms above his head and turns on his heels to begin walking back to the lodge. Nero hopes Avilio didn’t really mean it when he said he was going to lock him out from their room.

-

     “I really meant it when I said I was going to lock you out of the room.” Even from behind the door, he can tell that Avilio is cross and he struggles not to imagine the other as a grumpy housewife.

     “Come on Avilio, the stables were far away and it’s dark.” He’s met with silence. “I’ll let you have the bed.”

     A few moments of quiet pass before the door swings open and Avilio is looking at him with wet hair and a towel around his neck. His stares at Nero flippantly.

     “I was going to take the bed anyway, I paid for the room.”

     “How many times are you going to remind me of that.”

     “Until you stop being a bastard who wastes all of our money on cheap liquor.”

     “So is that a never?”

     Avilio throws the towel at his head. “I won’t even ask you why you’re fucking soaked and look like you've been crying for an hour, just wash off and make yourself comfortable on the couch.”

     “Yes ma’am.” Nero makes sure to mimic Avilio’s voice exactly as when he was charming the old lady and escapes into the bathroom when his companion sports a murderous glint in his eyes. Putting the towel that Avilio had previously used on the counter, he’s disappointed to find that there were no other towels.

     “Figures.” He undresses from his suit and lays it on a rack before suddenly being faced with an alarming dilemma. He didn’t have any other clean clothes and he definitely didn’t want to wear his suit after he was already washed.

     Suddenly, a fist pounds on the door and Nero jumps so high he nearly hits the ceiling.

     "Son of a-"

     “Clean clothes are under the cabinet, the old lady said we could wash our clothes tomorrow. Don’t ask me where they came from, she came up to the room and offered them to me.” Nero mumbles a thanks and looks under the cabinet to find a white shirt and long black pants, thin in material but seemingly fitting. After his immediate concerns are appeased, Nero takes the longest shower of his life in order to wash away days of traveling and he’s relieved as to how much cleaner he feels as a result, but now he faces another problem. Avilio’s towel. Nero knew he was being finicky since they were both men, but he found it weird to be using the same towel as the younger had earlier. To remedy this, Nero uses the towel as sparingly as possible and ends up having the clothes sticking to his body.

     When Nero comes out of the bath looking not dry at all, Avilio raises a brow, but doesn’t say a word from his spot on the bed. Nero takes notice that Avilio wears a shirt similar to his, but instead wore a pair of navy shorts unlike his own long black pants and turns away at the sight of the other’s lithe, pale legs.

     “Enjoy yourself?” Avilio asks uninterestedly and Nero rolls his eyes, walking over to the bed to steal a pillow and a sheet. Incredibly, Avilio pouts when Nero takes the things over to the couch and he has to hold back on releasing a string of expletives. What kind of grown man pouted when having pillows taken away?

     It goes unsaid, but they both silently agree that sleeping early would be best and Nero retires to the couch while Avilio switches off the gas lamp near the bed. The only light in their room comes from the moon filtering through the thin curtain and it reminds Nero of the lake.

     “What were you doing out there?” Nero is surprised at the sudden question and struggles to find an answer that sounds believable. 

     “Doing some thinking.”

     “About what?” 

     He pauses, unsure if it was the right question to ask. “Do you…have any siblings? No, or rather, have you ever lost someone important to you?”

     The room grows eerily quiet and Nero begins to think that Avilio had fallen asleep, but the other finally replies after a long silence.

     “No.”

     After that, Nero is met with an even longer silence and he deems Avilio to be asleep, making their conversation worthless to continue. With his back turned to the other, he quickly falls into a deep slumber with a peaceful look on his face.

     On the bed, Avilio remained awake, staring at his gun on the bedside drawer with cold, hollow eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are they getting along?? are they not getting along??? who knows
> 
> next chapter: day 2 @ the inn + avilio teaches nero how to drive + shenanigans


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i decided to split the chapter into two parts bc yeah

     A rustling sound stirs Nero from his sleep and he awakens, eyes darting over to the source of the noise. The bedsheets were twisted in an array with one pillow hanging precariously from the edge. Avilio was nowhere to be seen.

     Another sound catches his attention and Nero turns his head to see the younger man leaning against the couch, pale moonlight reflecting across his face. The shadows in the room meant it was still the middle of the night and there was no good reason for Avilio to be up at this time. He sits up slowly, but stills when Avilio moves from his position and walks closer. The expression on Avilio’s face is strange, and Nero feels unsettled as Avilio’s intense gaze remains fixated on him. When there’s less than a few inches separating the two, Nero finds that it has suddenly become much harder to breathe with Avilio’s nose brushing across his cheek and his hair falling into Nero’s eyes. He’s about to object to the violation of his personal space, but before he can even inch out a word, Avilio is kissing him.

     Avilio kisses with purpose and his lips move with what seems like years of experience, but Nero is undeterred, and he responds with the same enthusiasm without missing a beat as if he had been waiting for this moment to happen since they had both met. In the back of his head there are sirens blaring, telling him that this was incredibly stupid and he should definitely quit before things got worse, but he ignores them and instead focuses on the man who is currently palming at his growing erection. Avilio straddles him in one fluid movement that Nero finds much sexier than it needed to be and he groans when the other’s ass makes contact with the uncomfortable feeling in his pants. In this position, Nero feels like a trapped animal with Avilio looking down at him, but it only fuels his excitement even more and he reaches a hand to curl around Avilio’s neck to pull him down for another frantic kiss. They’re rutting against each other desperately and Avilio is doing this magical thing with his tongue that’s driving Nero crazy and he isn’t very sure how much more he could take. It had been ages since he had last bedded someone, man or woman, and the starving hunger of his body slowly tipped over the edge.

     “Avilio please,” he says between kisses, hands tangling into the soft black of the other’s hair while Avilio stares him down with glowing eyes. As if reading his mind, the younger man’s lips quirk into a half smile and a deft hand reaches into Nero’s pants, sliding under the waistband and resting onto Nero’s erect cock. Avilio’s fingers, calloused and icy cold, begin stroking him in quick motions which leave Nero a writhing mess. It only takes a few moments for Nero to climax and he spills into Avilio’s hand, breathing ragged as they lay pressed chest to chest. Belatedly, Nero realizes that Avilio’s body is a lot lighter than it should be.

     “Meow.”

     His eyes flutter open. Sunlight floods his senses and he squints to see a black cat sitting on his chest, eyes judgmental as if they were mocking him for his wet dream. In a panic, Nero looks over to the bed but finds it to be empty and he breathes a sigh of relief, dreading what would have happened if the bed were actually occupied. Nero pushes the cat off of him and chases it out the door, muttering incoherent curses under his breath as he strips himself of his soiled pants. It was embarrassing. He was 21 and here he was, having wet dreams as if he were a pubescent teen lusting after girls in the schoolyard.

     “And it had to be him, of all people.” Nero grunts, balling up the dirty clothes and shoving it deep into the corner of the bathroom. The high of his dream hadn’t worn off yet and Nero stands in front of the sink looking shamefully at himself.

     After getting dressed, Nero leaves the room and walks into the lobby where the old lady was slowly sweeping the floor with a broom. He walks around the figure to see Avilio seated at a small table with food in front of him and the cat from earlier in his lap. Nero takes great care not to look the other in the face.

     “Sleep well?”

     “You could say that.” Nero mumbles, taking a seat at the far end of the table and praying to the heavens that the red on his face wasn’t too obvious. Across the way, Avilio’s face is buried in a newspaper while eating simultaneously. The headlines talked about some big corporation being busted for behind the scenes soliciting, but Nero looked on with mild interest until the other set down the paper to look him straight in the eye. Nero chokes on his beans.

     “I’ll be going out to the nearest town to help the old lady’s husband with some errands. You’ll stay here and help her clean up, in return, we can stay here for a few extra days.” After making sure he didn’t die from asphyxiation, Nero sets down his glass of water and nods in response. He feared that if he argued or talked back, Avilio would notice that something about him was clearly off.

     Avilio, who looked pleased that Nero submitted so easily, continues digging into his food while Nero watched him. It was very slight, but Nero could see the shadows under his eyes and he wondered if Avilio had trouble sleeping last night.

     “What about you?” The cat climbs onto the table and begins licking its paw. Nero shoots it a dirty look.

     “What about me?”

     “Well you know; did you rest up at all?”

     Avilio gives him a confused look. “Yes I did, thank you for asking.”

     Nero isn’t feeling confident enough to call Avilio out on his blatant lie after basically fantasizing the other jerking him off and so he leaves the conversation at that. Avilio finishes quickly, patting his mouth with a napkin and giving his thanks to the old lady for the food before leaving the table. Nero takes some more time in comparison, mulling over the notions that his dream implied.

     Was he attracted to Avilio? Sure, Avilio was handsome, but Nero typically enjoyed the company of women more so often than the company of men. He loved the feeling of soft breasts in his hands and the smell of flowery perfume, and he thinks it highly unlikely he would rather swap them out for the firmness of a man. Women were submissive and pliant under his touch, which he enjoyed immensely, and he found it hard to believe that a man would be willing to do the same. Except, he had to reluctantly admit he very much enjoyed imaginary Avilio’s ass grinding against his hardened cock. Nero pushes a clump of eggs to the side with his fork.

     “Food not to your liking?” A voice breaks him from of his thoughts and he turns his head to face the old woman standing by his side.

     “No, it’s good. Thank you.” Nero shovels the rest of the food into his mouth and watched the old woman totter away with his dirty plate, the black cat still perched on the table. Feeling unnerved by its stare, Nero rises from the table to follow after the old woman.

     “Excuse me, uh-“

     “You may call me Rosa.”

     “Right. Rosa. What exactly am I suppose to be helping you with today?”

     “Just some minor chores around the old building. Anthony has gone out to town and your cousin has gone to help him do some of the lifting. I had originally suggested for him to send you instead, for the boy is so thin in frame, but he insisted to be the one to go. Your cousin cares deeply for you.” Nero snorted. Avilio had definitely gone only to collect information, but he says nothing and continues watching the old woman wash the plate in slow motions. He suddenly wonders if he could possibly live to her old age, or if he would die young by the hands of a rival gang. The thought of someone like Fango killing him left a sour taste in his mouth.

     “Boy, instead of watching me, you can make yourself useful and gather your dirty clothes so I can wash them later.” Nero’s mind suddenly remembers the pile of cum stained clothes in the corner of their room and he pales.

     “Old la-I mean, Rosa, you can leave the dirty clothes for me. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself washing them, let me do it instead.”

     "If I could hurt myself washing clothes than I’d have broken myself a long time ago.” She grumbles but doesn’t argue, and Nero breathes out a sigh of relief. After finishing the dishes, she instructs him on how to properly wash his clothes and sends him on his way with a bucket of water and some soap. Nero takes the items gladly and retires to the front of the building, squatting low in the grass and rolling up his sleeves in order for them to not get wet. After washing the living hell out of his soiled clothes, he turns to grab the next item in the pile and raises up Avilio’s shirt. Out of nowhere, an urge strikes him to smell it and Nero takes a moment to wonder if he was clinically insane. He dunks the shirt in water and swears to himself that when he went back home, he would bed as many women as he could to get the image of a moaning Avilio out of his head.

     Just as Nero is hanging all of the clothes up to dry, a car rolls into the gravel path of the driveway and stops a few meters in front of him. An old man, presumably Anthony, gets out of the driver’s seat and gives him a sideways look. Nero flashes him a charming smile but the man remains stony faced, only giving a soft smile when Rosa comes out to give him a kiss on the cheek.

     “How sweet.” Avilio’s voice is close to mocking as he walks up behind Nero and he jolts when the other’s breath hits his neck. Thankfully, Avilio doesn’t comment on his skittish behavior and instead hangs up the last piece of clothing.

     “Hope you do a good job washing as well as you do drinking.”

     Nero’s throat is dry but he manages to spit back a remark. “My washing can’t be any worse than your driving.”

     “Speaking of, let’s go.”

     “Go where?”

     Avilio shoots him a look that makes him feel stupid.

     “Driving of course. I’ll be teaching you how to drive.”

     Internally, Nero is convinced that his luck has been run bone dry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *hates stories with irregular chapter lengths*
> 
> me: *writes stories with irregular chapter lengths*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is honestly my favorite chapter for so many reasons

     The majority of the ride is painstakingly quiet, with Nero being too hesitant to break the silence and Avilio seemingly more tense than usual. He sits in a rigid position much too harsh to be natural and his knuckles are white around the wheel. Nero guesses that something must have gone wrong in town, but feels that if he asked, Avilio would drive the car into the nearest building.

     It doesn’t take them long to reach a large dirt field and Avilio steps on the break so abruptly that Nero has to slam his hands on the dash to prevent his face from making an imprint in the leather.

     “A warning would have been nice.”

     “Watch out.” Avilio says dryly, opening the car door and getting out of the seat. They swap positions. Nero had learned some of the basics of driving when he was younger, but never actually bothered to put the teachings into practice as he had others who could do the job for him. Now, on the run with someone like Avilio by his side, being a textbook driver wasn’t an option anymore.

     “Stick in the middle, clutch it and step on the accelerator. That makes the car go forward. Brake stops the car. That there is your gas, try not to let it get empty. Good luck.”

     “You’re shitting me.”

     “No, I’m teaching you how to drive.”

     “You’re like the poor man’s version of a driving lesson.” Avilio snorts, making Nero’s frown deepen. Now he knew why the other’s driving was so bad. Avilio barely knew the basics himself, but here he was, acting all high and mighty about teaching Nero how to drive.

     After some mishaps here and there, Nero spends a good few hours driving around the empty lot to practice his newfound skill. The sky is sunny and clear, making conditions optimal for a first time driver and Nero quickly finds that driving was not as easy as it seemed. The car that they had borrowed from the lodge was old and heavy, making the steering wheel refuse Nero’s orders more than once and Nero struggles to keep the wheels out of craters in the ground. Occasionally, the engine sputters and dies, sending Nero into a fit of curses while Avilio observed amusingly.

     Surprisingly, after a few trials and errors, Nero is starting not to be abysmal. He’s able to weave between bushes without killing the engine and his parking had improved tremendously. Now, whenever Avilio drew the lines for an imaginary parking spot, he only took up two spaces instead of three.

     “I think I’m getting the hang of it, no thanks to you.” Nero drives up next to Avilio, who had grown tired of Nero’s fascination for the wheel and had retired to the edge of the lot. He leans over and opens the passenger door, beckoning for Avilio to come in. Avilio turns up his nose, but gets in anyway.

     “I am not your dog.” He says distastefully, but Nero only chuckles and restarts the engine. It had taken a lot of convincing on Nero’s end to have him drive them back to the lodge, but the other had finally given in after a few turns at the wheel. Before the drive can turn into the same cold silence from earlier, Nero hurries to make conversation.

     “Anything interesting happen in town? Had to be more exciting than me washing clothes.”

     “Nothing much, except for the rumors that the Galassias have sent someone else after us.” Nero raises a brow but doesn’t persist with the topic. It’s obvious how Avilio doesn’t want to divulge any more details about the rumors, judging by the other man’s irritated face.

     “Are you that angry that someone is coming after me?” He says in an attempt to lighten the mood, trying to keep his eyes on the road now that the sun was setting.

     At his side, Avilio turns his head and smiles his most genuine smile.

     “I’d rather kill you myself, then have someone take you away.”

     Nero almost swerves into a tree.

-

     After making a quick pit stop at the store for canned pineapples (Avilio was unrelenting and Nero was fearful of the possible repercussions if he had said no), they arrive back at the lodge. Nero, with his hands full of fruit, bumps into Avilio’s back on the porch.

     “What’s the big deal?“ 

     “The door isn’t locked.” Avilio says in a whisper, backing away from the door cautiously and forcing Nero into the corner of the porch. The pair keep quiet and Nero sets down the bag, replacing it with the pistol from his waistband. A glinting knife sits in Avilio’s hand and they make for the screen window on the side of the lodge. Nero, being slightly taller, looks over the banister to see the old couple tied up in chairs, mouths gagged. A pair of men stand over them with wide brimmed hats and heavy coats, faces shielded by the shade setting. The guns that they hold in their hands make Nero’s blood run cold. He ducks back down under the window.

     “What did you see?”

     “Two guys at least, maybe some more upstairs. The old couple are tied up, but they’re alive.”

     “Good. We can get away if we’re quiet.” Nero’s eyes widen and he grabs the back of Avilio’s shirt as the younger tries to sneak off.

     “Are you crazy? Those people helped us, we can’t just leave them there to die.”

     The last thing Nero expects is for Avilio to press his face into his, eyes glaring and mouth ripped in a snarl.

     “Since when do you care about saving other people’s lives? I have things to live for, and if you want to play hero, die for all I care.” His words sting and Nero flinches. Avilio was right. He wasn’t a good person, not by any means. He'd killed so many people that he had lost count. Hell, he had done his first job when he was a teenager, mercilessly killing an innocent family with children that were probably around his age. It was a job that he could never forget no matter how much he tried to purge it from his memory. He remembers their eyes the most. The rage in the father’s, the fear in the mother’s, and the terror in the children. It haunted him to this very day.

     Nero watches Avilio’s retreating back, but tightens the grip of the gun in his hand and aims it steadily.

     Everyone could change.

     He cocks the gun, watching Avilio turn around. The younger’s expression morphs from one of incredulity, to outrage.

     “Are you aiming that at me?” Avilio’s voice is frighteningly calm for someone who is staring down the barrel of a gun.

     “I thought you were smarter than this. You’re going to help me rescue them or god help me, I’ll put this bullet in your forehead.”

     “Stop talking and do it then.” Avilio hisses, pushing his head against the gun, fingers dancing across the blade of his knife. They stare at each other, hate brimming in both of their eyes, hands itching to be the first to move.

     Nero's finger jerks and the sound of a gunshot rings through the air, his eyes watching steadily as Avilio's body falls to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh spaghettio


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of you guys' comments literally fuel me i love it so much

     Nero jerks backwards from the sudden noise, his ears left ringing as a warm splatter of blood brushes his cheek. The gun sits in his hand, unfired, but Avilio is on the ground with red on his face and he catches movement in the corner of his eye. A gunman, adjacent to them across the lot, had taken fire at the pair. Nero had been spared, but Avilio, unfortunately, had not.

     All rationale flies out the window as Nero scrambles on his hands and knees over to Avilio’s body, pulling the other behind the back of the building as gunfire rains like summer showers. A shot clips him on the shoulder, but Nero is numb to the pain and instead focuses on propping Avilio’s body in an upright position against the hardwood, firing random shots around the corner in a fruitless attempt to ward off their attackers.

     “You’re a shitty shot.” Avilio’s gravelly voice brings Nero back to reality.

     “Fuck, Avilio, hang in there, I’ll get us out of here.” He fires another shot around the wall and hears the dinging sound as it makes contact with the metal. He curses under his breath and checks the bullets in his gun. Empty.

     A hand appears in his lap and presses a small box of rounds into his fingers. Nero looks up at Avilio, who is turning paler by the moment, his white skin becoming sickly in color. The younger male sported a long gash on his cheek and his ear was bleeding profusely, and even if he was lucky that the initial bullet had only grazed him, the blood was pouring out at an alarming rate.

     “They got my arm too, take it, it won’t be of any use to me if we both die here.” Nero doesn’t hesitate and reloads the gun faster than he’s ever reloaded before and cocks the weapon by his side. He knows that he can’t stay behind the wall forever and the throbbing pain in his shoulder is becoming much harder to ignore than it was before. He’d have to deal with them all himself, right here and now.

     “Whatever you do, just don’t…” His voice trails off as he looks at Avilio who is watching him in a ghostly manner. The other didn’t seem at all phased by the fact that he was losing copious amounts of blood in multiple places and even appeared satisfied by the looming danger of their situation. Besides small winces here and there, Avilio seemed to be welcoming death with open arms. His eyes were empty and it infuriated Nero to his very core. He had lost too many people of value to him due to violence, and he wasn’t about to let Avilio go the same way.

     “Just don’t die on me.” Nero says finally and he leans forwards to kiss Avilio’s forehead without hesitation. As a serious sign of respect with the Vanettis, it showed a symbol of complete and unconditional trust in another person. Only a few had earned this honor around Nero, and now, Avilio had joined the ranks as Nero’s right hand man.

     Before Nero disappears around the building, undoubtedly going towards a death sentence, he catches a glimpse of the look of utter confusion on Avilio’s face. Despite the situation, his lips curve into the tiniest smile. He guesses that he should explain the kiss later.

-

     For the moment, the gunfire had ceased and it appeared as if the lone gunman outside had retreated into the lodge. As Nero ducks behind the car, he hopes that at least one of his bullets had found their mark. He checks what is left of his gun.

     “Five. Great. I just need to not miss all of my shots.” Nero grumbles, making a beeline for the front door while staying as low as possible. The sharp pain in his left shoulder was now a warm numbness that made him inexplicably uncomfortable. There was no doubt that the bullet was deep, but there was no time to waste and stop to examine it when there were lives on the line. When he’s close enough to the door to press an ear to it, Nero is able to make out muffled talking through the mesh.

     “…one of his bullets got Pierro in the chest…probably won’t make it…just me and Rocco now…” Nero’s heart is pounding so loud that he is surely convinced the gunmen will come outside to investigate the incessant noise. Five bullets, two men, maybe three. His hands are sticky with sweat and his mind is racing with all the possibilities.

     Scenario one, Nero becomes a perfect shot and kills the gunmen flawlessly. He saves the old couple and Avilio forgives him for everything.

     His hand settles on the door.

     Scenario two, he messes up a little bit and takes a bullet here and there, but still lives, as does Avilio. They escape by the skin of their teeth.

     Nero turns the knob achingly slow.

     Scenario three, he misses all of his shots and the gunmen proceed to mow him down, killing Avilio as they see fit. Avilio will harass him in hell.

     “Fuck his nagging.” Nero growls, kicking open the door and leveling the gun to his eye before shooting at a man cloaked in black. Of course, his shot misses and instead clips a wooden post, sending a shower of chips in every direction as one of the gunmen races up the stairs. The other gunman is not so lucky, and Nero, being blessed with fast reflexes, shoots the man square in the temple. The man goes down like a sack of bricks and Nero all but dives behind a cabinet as his shoulder screams in protest. Making sure the coast is clear for now, Nero rushes over to the couple and begins untying the ropes around their hands. There was no time to pursue the escaped killer, and with Nero’s injuries, going after the other man would only make things worse for his condition.

     “Take the car and leave, run as far as you can.” He says hurriedly, out of breath from the blood pouring out of his shoulder and the exertion being forced onto his body. Just as Nero reaches up to remove the gag from the woman, a sharp pain shoots through his left arm and the force pushes him backwards onto his side. Wincing, he reaches his hand to clench around the gushing wound.

     “Well well, if it isn’t Nero Vanetti, in the flesh. You’ve been quite a pain to track down, you and your little partner.” A hissing voice comes from behind and it takes him all of his effort to even look at the man. Two gunshot wounds will do that to you.

     The pain was now a roaring flame licking at his skin and Nero bites his lip so hard he draws blood when the man steps on his arm, grinding it into the floor. After kicking his body around a few times, the man grips him by the hair and pulls him to eye level. Nero spits blood in his face and is met with a vicious blow to the stomach that drives him to his knees.

     “These people had nothing to do with it and you know it you bastard.” He coughs out as a last, futile attempt to right a wrong before he died. “And Avilio too, I was the one who strung him along. If you’re going to kill someone, kill me, but don’t touch him.”

     The man standing over him has a disgusting glint in his eye. “Oh I will kill you Nero, but why stop there? I’m going to shoot them after I shoot you, and then I’ll go around back to where you’re hiding your precious toy. I’ve heard the rumors about your little friend being a pretty face, maybe he can satisfy me as he dies a long and slow death.”

     “Do not. Touch him.”

     “Or what?” The other drawls out his words with a sneer on his face and an infuriated Nero raises his gun up only for it to be swatted away by the butt of the man’s weapon. He watches helplessly as the pistol clatters against the wall, and when he turns forwards, the man’s gun is pointing straight at him.

     “Goodbye, Nero.” The line is so dramatically cliché that Nero can’t even laugh and instead simply closes his eyes as he waits for death to arrive.

     It doesn’t. Instead, a gunshot rings so loudly that Nero’s eyes fly open at the noise and he sees a splash of red blooming across the gunman’s white dress shirt. The man’s face is contorted in a look of surprise before more shots fire and two more flowers appear on the man’s shirt. He falls forwards and Nero scrambles to get out of the way of the body. Behind him, Avilio is slouching against the wall with Nero’s gun in hand, face drenched in sweat and blood but otherwise smug.

     “Now we’re even.” He mumbles before falling towards the ground, but this time, Nero is there to catch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imagining nero kissing avilio's forehead in a loving manner got me fucked up but that'll never happen in this fic :')))


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know avilio is like getting ooc but its just for this chapter i promi s e  
> (also i'm not really happy with this chapter but oh well what can i do write better no way)

     When Nero wakes up, he finds that he is unable to move any of his limbs without a sharp pain shooting through his muscles and his throat feels like Corsican sand on a hot summer day. He thinks he can hear low talking.

     “Speak of the devil.”

     “You’re awake. Finally,” Rosa’s voice is weak but resolute, “we were beginning to think you’d kick the bucket.”

     “If only.” Avilio stands by the older woman, one shoulder wrapped in white and head heavily bandaged with gauze and tape. The deep circles under his lashes are prominent against his pale skin and one eye is bloodshot with an angry red. Nero briefly wonders who looked the worst between the two of them.

     “I saved your life.”

     “And I yours.” They exchange pithy glares at each other before Rosa clears her throat, earning both of the men’s attention immediately. Her look is disapproving, as if she regretted saving their lives, and Nero immediately feels the wave of guilt and embarrassment wash over him. He straightens up in bed as best as he can and tries to look remorseful.

     “You’ve been out for three whole days; your friend here had woken up a little past one. The both of you will live without any major injuries, but I best suggest you get to a hospital as soon as you can, Anthony could only do so much for a man on the verge of death. You’d lost a lot of blood.” Rosa’s voice is apprehensive, almost accusatory, and Nero concludes that the woman must have been deeply shaken by what had happened a few days ago. He can’t blame her. The life of a mafioso was not suited for an aging lady such as herself. “…and in exchange, you can tell me the real story behind you two before I turn you over to the officials. I assure you, me and my husband can certainly overpower two bedridden youngsters.”

     Nero briefly weighs his options. Option one, come clean with his story and risk the couple kicking them out of their lodge. Option two, be stubborn and risk imminent danger.

     Option one sounded good.

     “I am Nero Vanetti, next don of the Vanetti family and on the run from the Galassias who have a price on my head. Avilio is my…” his voice trails off as he considers what the younger really is to him. “Friend. He is my friend who is accompanying me on this trip as a personal aide. We have been fleeing for the past week and stopped here only to seek refuge from the road, we did not mean you any harm.” Nero speaks slowly, but surely, in case the old woman changed her mind and decided to call the police right then and there. As someone who was confined to a bed, Nero was not sure what he could do against healthy armed men.

     Rosa’s scrutinizing look returns and Nero fidgets under her stare, wanting nothing more than to be alone in this room.

     “Fine, I’ll believe you.”

     “Really?” Nero slaps a hand over his mouth and groans when the pain shoots through his shoulder. Off to the side, Avilio snorts.

     The old woman shakes her head with a sigh, getting up from the small stool and turning to give a pointed look at Avilio.

     “His bandages will need to be redressed later tonight. I will be out with my husband in town as some locals have called the police, as they were worried about the sound of gunshots from days before. They have called us in for questioning.” She sighs and waves her hand in dismissal when Nero tries to apologize. “If you don’t redress him, his wounds will worsen. He certainly can move, but I wouldn’t risk pulling stitches for any trivial matter.”

     And with that, she leaves the room without so much of a look in Nero’s direction. Nero is hurt. He rarely got snubbed by women.

     After she leaves, Nero takes a look around from the comfort of his bed. The room is much larger than the one they had stayed in and has two large beds instead of one. Opposite to him, a bed rests against a mirrored closet door, bandages pooled on the sheets with pillows skewed about. He guesses that was where Avilio had slept.

     “You look awful.” Avilio says plainly, walking back over to his side of the room and retreating under the covers. A pale foot covered in gauze pokes out from beneath the blanket.

     “You don’t look too nice yourself.” Nero says, voice lacking any real malice as they both know their looks weren’t the most important thing at the time. What mattered was what they would do now after leaving this place, two injured men on the run wouldn’t get very far and if more men came after them, they would be goners for sure. 

     After a long silence, the anxiety in the air is almost palpable and Nero feels as if it’s choking him slowly. He decides to be the bigger man and apologize first.

     “Avilio…I’m sorry for dragging you along with all this. You might be an insufferable bastard most of the time, but thank you for saving my life.” Across the room, he can almost visualize Avilio’s crossed arms and the rolling of his eyes as he speaks. Nero struggles to keep a smile from surfacing on his face.

     The duvet shifts and Avilio emerges from the sheets, hair mussed and lips curled in an indignant pout. Nero admits internally that the younger looked ravishing despite the masses of white wrapped around his body.

     “Apology accepted.”

     “What, no heartfelt words back? No “Thank you Nero for saving my life”?”

     “Thank you Nero, for saving my life. Are you pleased?” Nero can’t really tell, but he thinks there is a flush of pink splashed across the other’s cheeks and he desperately hopes that what he is perceiving is real. Before he can say anything, the other dives back under the blanket and mumbles a quick “I’m going to sleep” and Nero is left in a state of bemusement. Apparently the younger could be cute at times.

     Mirroring Avilio, Nero also chooses to return to sleep and turns on his side gingerly, finding that his body was much number than it was in pain. He does a mental prayer for a quick recovery and dozes off.

-

     “Nero.” A hand shakes his shoulder and Nero groggily awakens, sleep coated eyes adjusting the image of Avilio who sat on the edge of his bed. “I need to redress your wounds.”

     Too drowsy to object, Nero nods and proceeds to take off his shirt with some difficulty before leaning up against the wall, watching Avilio unwrap a roll of bandages with a deft hand. Undoing Nero’s old bandages, one by one, the material falls away from his body, letting heated flesh meet with cold air and he sighs softly at the cool sensation. The injured areas feel raw, but have now been reduced to a pleasurable stinging and he watches with interest as Avilio’s nimble fingers dance across his warm skin, cold presses against hard muscle.

     “They really got you good.” The younger murmurs, brushing a hand over the expanse of scars over Nero’s abdomen and fingers curling along the edge of a loose bandage. His eyes are steadily focused on the puckered flesh wounds left by bullets and Nero wonders how someone could look so beautiful while attending to something so abhorrent.

     “They did. But I don’t regret it.” At that, Avilio looks up at Nero and their faces are so close that the younger’s breath washes over Nero’s face in steady waves. The tension between them is tangible at this point and Nero wants nothing more than to close the gap between them. He’s never noticed, but Avilio’s lashes are extremely long.

     A sudden creak of the door causes Avilio to jerk back from Nero and their heads whip over to the door. The black cat sits innocently besides the frame, licking its paw. Nero curses his luck.

     Moving swiftly, Avilio rises from the bed, but instead of leaving, he ushers the cat to exit and closes the door behind him before locking it. He returns to the bed with a small bowl with a cloth and razor.

     “You haven’t shaved. Let me do it for you.” Avilio’s voice is mesmerizing and all Nero can do is nod, too preoccupied with the man before him to even consider the locked door. A cool hand touches the underside of his chin and begins shaving him, in short, methodical strokes too rhythmic to be natural. Avilio’s hair falls across his face and Nero wonders how the other man can even see, occasionally getting glimpses of flashing gold beneath black. He wonders if anyone had ever told Avilio that he was beautiful.

     Once Avilio has finished shaving Nero, he places the razor back in the bowl and lets one hand linger on Nero’s cheek. His eyes are filled with something indiscernible. A raging storm, the eye of a hurricane.

     “Nero, I'm-"

     Before he can finish, Nero leans forward and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whos ready for sin!!!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long like i love writer's block :')))

     It’s quiet, too quiet, and Nero is sitting in an awkward position with his back hunched over in a desperate attempt to close the gap between them and Avilio sits with eyes wide open. Neither of them is moving, but Nero still has his lips pressed into the corner of Avilio’s mouth and the younger’s hands are curled into fists. He draws back hastily.

     Before Nero can beg Avilio not to end his life right then and there, he finds there are fingers woven into the tresses of his hair and lips kissing him back with equal fervor, long lashes brushing against his cheek. Unlike the Avilio of his dreams, the Avilio kissing him right now was very real. He’s kissing him back in a manner that screams inexperience and naivety, leaving their teeth clashing at awkward moments and noses bumping every time someone draws back for breath. It’s haphazard, chaotic, and Nero isn’t sure if this is what he had wanted from the younger. Instead of flushed faces and pleasurable moans, Avilio is tight lipped and stoic, cold skin chilling Nero’s own. It was like Avilio wasn’t even there and Nero was infatuated with an apparition, a shell of a former person.

     “Avilio…are you sure this is okay?” His sentence is garbled in speech as Avilio had moved on to press small bites to Nero’s neck, small red rings blossoming onto the peaks of Nero’s collarbones. As Avilio’s shirt slips to reveal pale, unmarred shoulder, Nero absent-mindedly wonders how the younger would look with a fresh hickey.

     “No. It’s not.”

     Despite the conflicting information, Avilio continues to nip at his skin with messy accuracy. In the midst of it all, he had somehow managed to undo the buttons on Nero’s shirt and was now working a deft hand at unbuttoning his own, pushing Nero’s hand away when he tries to help. His shirt falls open and Nero stares, unabashed. Avilio was gorgeous.

     As if it was an effort to deter Nero from continuing his blatant staring, Avilio places a hand against Nero’s chest to push him down on the bed and straddles his waist. Even from an unflattering angle, Avilio is still the image of sorrowful perfection in Nero’s eyes. There’s something sad about the whole affair, as if Avilio was trying to hold himself back from doing what he really wanted. His eyes are dim, no longer their fierce reflective gold, and his lips (when not kissing Nero) are perpetually twisted into a grimace while looking at the man beneath him. Disgust, regret, anger. It frightens Nero that this only excites him even more.

     The slow pace is quickened by Nero pulling Avilio down by the nape for their lips to reconnect, sloppy kisses made even more harried by the thrumming staccato of urgency between them. Nero isn’t sure how it happens, but eventually, the rest of their clothes disappear and they’re flush against each other on a bed of moonlight. In other circumstances, the scene would be awfully romantic, but the tortured look in Avilio’s eyes says otherwise. Nero suddenly gets the uncontrollable urge to press his fingers into the younger’s neck a little harder.

     They continue rutting against each other in silence, quiet only broken by occasional grunts and soft pants from the both of them. It’s a terse kind of silence that would be unbearable otherwise, but with the haze of sexual desire, Nero can barely be contained by social decorum.

     “Please.” Avilio’s voice is painstakingly quiet but Nero catches the feeble request. Reluctantly detaching himself from the younger’s hold, he finds a small bottle of lotion in the refuge of the bedside drawer and returns to the pooled blanket where Avilio lay. As Nero stands over the bed, he looks down at Avilio who is sprawled out against the white sheets, legs spread as if he were depraved. Nero settles down between miles of alabaster and covers his fingers in pearl. His own tan skin is a stark contrast to Avilio’s.

     “I’ll be gentle.” Nero thinks Avilio scoffs, a painful sound.

     “Don’t be.” And with that, Nero’s pride takes the better of him and he shoves two fingers into Avilio, causing the other to gasp and arch his back in a pretty curve off of the bed. It’s incredibly warm inside the other and Nero can only imagine what it feels like to be fully sheathed inside Avilio’s heat, other hand reaching down to start stroking at Avilio’s hardened cock. This action elicits a mewling noise from Avilio and Nero’s brain short circuits.

     It’s at this point where Nero only remembers a cloudy haze of what happened. He remembers fingering Avilio until the other chanted his name in broken cries, fingers wrapped tightly around Nero’s shoulders. He remembers fucking Avilio so hard into the bed that the wood creaked beneath their bodies, sweat pooling on the edge of his brow. He fucked Avilio from behind, but had finished him off from the front, wanting to see the other’s face when he climaxed. He remembers every curve, every touch, every plane of Avilio’s body that had touched his in the night. He remembers telling Avilio to let go, watching as the other’s eyes flashed with momentary ferocity. But most importantly, Nero remembered what Avilio had whispered into his ear as they climaxed together, fingers interlocked in what seemed like their last goodbye.

_“Please, call me Angelo.”_

     And so he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BETCHA DIDN'T EXPECT THAT BAM 
> 
> (also next chapter will probably be the last will it be 200 words or 2000 words WHO KNOWS)
> 
> edit: i'm pretty curious but i was wondering if you guys want a happy or a sad ending? i haven't written the last chapter yet but i do have a general idea but i want to know what you guys think so i can do the opposite :')


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ep 12 fucked me up :')))

     When Nero wakes up, the space next to him is empty. Meticulously folded sheets replace where Avilio was the night before and the only sign of the younger being here is the faint smell of cigarette smoke in the air. Being mindful of the soreness of his body, Nero gets out of bed and slowly descends the staircase with a thousand thoughts running through his mind. The name “Angelo” is stuck in his head and he knows he has heard the name before. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but Nero isn’t quite sure who the name belongs to.

     Rosa is in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for herself and Anthony, and Nero feels awkward as he sits at the table with the old man across from him. The newspaper in his wrinkled hands reminds him of Avilio.

     “Here you are, eat up and heal faster.” Rosa’s voice breaks Nero’s thoughts and he thanks her quietly before digging in. He’s sure it tastes wonderful, but all he can think about is how Avilio tasted last night, writhing under his touch. Nero spears a link of sausage in his mouth and wills himself not to think of such inappropriate things over breakfast in the company of an older couple.

     “Did Avilio leave this morning?”

     “Why yes he did, Anthony took him down to the city where he said he would find someone else to take him to where he needed to be. I believe he said the man was named Hanzo?”

     “It was Ganzo dear.” Anthony’s gruff voice interrupts Rosa and Nero’s eyebrows furrow. Why would his uncle need to visit Angelo?

     “Oh and he said,” Rosa takes a paper from her pocket “to give this to you after you ate.”

     Nero takes the piece of paper and reads it. His eyes widen at the contents and he rises abruptly, pushing the chair back from the table.

     “I need to take your car. I will pay you with everything I have, please, I need to leave.” Nero’s voice is edging towards hilarity and a sense of dread is settling on him. “I beg of you.”

     The couple exchange looks before giving him a nod and Anthony throws him the keys to the car. Nero thanks them and slaps his wallet down on the table before running out of the door, getting in the car and heading straight for Lawless. He had an awful feeling about this.

     “ _Dear Nero, by the time you read this I will most likely be in Lawless. I apologize for leaving on such short notice, but I am afraid if I stayed any longer, I would lose my resolve for vengeance. I hope you do not make any rash decisions, but if you do come to meet me, please know that I am not the person you think I am. Best wishes, Angelo Lagusa_ ”

-

     Gun in hand, Nero bursts through the doors of the Vanetti mansion. Hours had passed between the drive and the sun was now setting in the sky, casting a haunting orange glow on the entirety of the building. Those few hours were enough to piece together what the letter had meant and Nero is a swarm of emotions.

     He makes his way down a hallway filled with bullet riddled bodies, some of them his longtime comrades. Angelo Lagusa, the son of Testa Lagusa, his father’s best friend who he killed in cold blood seven years ago.

     He checks Frate’s room. Empty. Angelo Lagusa, the young boy who Nero failed to shoot seven years ago.

     He checks the dining room. Empty. Angelo Lagusa, the same boy who had come back seven years later to exact his revenge on the Vanetti family. Nero felt stupid not realizing it, this whole time. Avilio had shown up in such a convenient manner, spinning a countless amounts of lies just to get closer to Nero, and he had actually believed him.

     Kicking open the doors to his father’s room, Nero arrives just in time to see Avilio hold a gun to his father’s head. Frate is dead in a corner and Ganzo’s bleeding corpse is slumped next to a wall, and the gun goes off before Nero has any time to comprehend what is happening. His father falls into a crumpled heap and Avilio turns around, white shirt splattered in red with gun raised to Nero. His lips are curled into a crooked smile, but his eyes are dim.

     “Any last words?”

     “Why are you doing this?” Nero croaks out and Avilio tilts his head as if he didn’t understand what Nero was asking. His smile morphs into a look of incredulous rage.

     “Why? You and your father, Vanno, and Ganzo murdered my family right in front of my eyes when I was a child, isn’t it only apt that I do the same to you? Don’t you dare ask me why.”

     “Angelo I, - “Avilio fires a bullet into his left shoulder and the force makes Nero stagger backwards. Nero thinks it’s cruel how Avilio had shot the same shoulder that Nero used to protect him. He could almost laugh at the irony.

     “Do not call me that, do not ever call me that.” He hisses, gun pressed to Nero’s forehead, eyes filled with rage. The barrel is ice cold against his forehead and Nero is afraid of dying. “You do not deserve to call me that after what you have done to me.”

     Nero is speechless. It was like a slap in the face. He had trusted Avilio, taken him in, loved him even, and the man had turned around and stabbed him in the back. He drops his gun on the ground and advances towards Avilio who is still pointing the gun at him, but notices that Avilio’s hand is shaking and there are tears welling in the other’s eyes.

     “I trusted you.”

     “Then you should have killed me that day, seven years ago.” Avilio is shouting into his face now, tears streaming down his cheeks and Nero so desperately wants to be the one wiping away the other’s eyes. When he reaches up to wipe Avilio’s tears, the younger lets him and leans into his touch. Nero presses their foreheads together, which forces Avilio to move his gun. Nero is determined to live, even if it meant throwing away his family name for the man who took his family away from him. He wanted to live.

     “I love you.”

     “I know.”

     “We can start over, you and me, call everything even. An eye for an eye.”

     Avilio laughs, a sad, mocking sound. “That’s not how this works.”

     “It can be if you want it to. There’s nothing stopping us but each other.”

     The younger man shakes his head and takes a step back, pressing his heels into the blood soaked carpet. It’s truly a beautiful sight. Avilio is swathed in a blanket of orange twilight and the room is covered in a fiery red. Nero closes his eyes.

     “Goodbye, Nero.”

     The sound of the gun pierces the silence, sending a flock of birds outside in a flurry. After the ringing subsides, all is quiet again.

-

     It’s a cloudy day when the Vanetti funeral is held, countless people clad in black standing over the graves in mourning. A lone figure stands behind the shadow of a tree and waits for everyone to leave. After the majority have drifted off to their cars, he emerges from the shade and walks up to the line of graves, brushing a gloved hand over one and placing a white carnation at its foot.

     “I’ll be seeing you soon.” Avilio murmurs, turning on his heel and walking towards the car that Nero had left behind.

     “And for what it’s worth, I loved you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nero had like 7 dollars in his wallet and a pic of avilio ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
